


I Know You

by kinpika



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: And you've suddenly go to face your past present and future, But they do it anyway, Liberal uses of time travel and space continuum, M/M, Mentions of Character Death, Use of alternate universes, What you shouldn't do in space: touch the weird ray
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 12:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7844536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith remember reading once, that a person's past, present and future are separate entities. Something to reflect on, never to be interacted with.</p><p>He wishes those people talked to aliens, before they developed that sort of technology. Then he wouldn't have to face Shiro, one he knew, and one he hopes he never has to meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know You

Whatever weird alien technology it was that had done this, Keith wasn’t entirely sure he wanted it reversed. Not just yet, at least. Especially not, when faced something that seemed like it was out of some rather niche fiction, only for those who really did belong in the deep black parts of space. But he wouldn’t let those intentions be known, as he crosses his arms. Studying, trying to make sense, as he watched his fellow paladins lurk closer with a certain amount of fear and amazement he could relate too.

If they had ever been told it would have been possible to split a person three ways, Keith wouldn’t have believed them, even after everything he had seen. But he was faced with the absolute fact that, and each time someone called Shiro’s name, three heads turned, varying degrees of displeasure on his face. Their faces. Keith was starting to feel a little like Coran, trying to decide whether to refer to each person as their own, or as the same being. Just _split three ways_.

Shiro, their paladin, stood just apart. Not quite believing it himself, Keith could tell that much. A certain weight had made his shoulders sag, and maybe it was easy to understand. Especially so, when Shirogane Takashi, was viewing his younger self, a couple of years younger, on his way to being a decorated pilot. And a slightly older version of himself, one that seemed several shades of smug and torn, no pupils to discern where he was looking, only those great yellow eyes that haunted Keith. The latter had been handcuffed and chained to where he had insisted on standing for quite some time, whilst the former sat, head in his hands. 

Pidge had theorised they may have been torn from alternate universes, their own worlds. A possibility that seemed believable, considering how time and space worked, wormholes actively travelled through making it quite possible they had picked up extra cargo. Keith knew Shiro hadn’t wanted to admit to touching anything on that abandoned alien ship just yet, but the truth was racing up to catch them, with each passing moment. 

Until Shiro would let them know, Keith wouldn’t utter a word. Let them theorise and worry, unsure if they should turf the yellow eyed one out, unsure how to return the young soldier home. Were they all really Shiro, or should they call them by different names. Shiro, what did you think of this? 

“I think… for now, we should put them in detainment. And we should probably turn in for the night.” His voice didn’t waver, but it didn’t hold that strength it normally did. Keith didn’t know what it was like to have to face yourself — he didn’t have much memories of a life before the Garrison, and even after the details were still fuzzy. But Shiro remembered everything, and more. 

“I’ll help.”

There are no need for words, as Shiro looks at him, all of them. Three sets of eyes, something so familiar and yet something so foreign sitting in each of them. Reaching out a hand to the young soldier, who takes it, he still towers over Keith. Not nearly as bulky as he was now, will be, and his right hand is warm to the touch, calloused skin and a pulse that beats under his fingers as Keith touches. This was the Shiro Keith had waited for, longed for, Garrison days keeping them far apart, only together just as Kerberos came into sight. Back then, there had been no future, but if what Pidge said was true, was it different for this one? Another universe, where they may have been together sooner.

But the hand snaps back, as if he had been burned. Eyes refuse to meet his, and this Shiro is far more guarded, quiet. No laughter, shuffling around Keith as he begins to follow Shiro — the older one? — towards detainment. Even if it wasn’t his Shiro, that still hurt. It left him feeling distinctly cold, and confirmed something in himself that he had held onto since the Garrison.

A slight chuckle catches him off guard, and even as he clenches his fist, he recognises the sound. Even though it was slightly on the side of gruffer than familiar, had his jaw tighten, Keith watches a great big grin accompany those horrid eyes, and hates it. “What?” This one was not his Shiro, even if he had everything Shiro did, just a few more scars, a bit of his nose missing, eyes that glowed and skin that looked like it carried a faint sheen under the light. Galra. Shiro must hate himself.

“ _Nothing._ ” Words come out far too singsong, like this one was enjoying the confusion a little too much. Keith took the end of the chains, and tugged him forward. 

“Shut up.”

Another laugh, slightly louder. Lance ducked out of view, as Keith walked ahead, Shiro trailing behind. Hunk joined him, Allura standing before them. Pidge was gone, as was Coran. This one scared them all the most. Scared Keith the most. He had seen a future of himself, standing beside the Galra, had the quintessence not helped him, saved him. Whatever had happened to Shiro, there was nothing left in him to save.

Maybe that was the most terrifying thing of all, thinking that maybe, just maybe, this was how Shiro was going to end up. That there was no way to alter a future, already set in place. 

 

 

Keith offers to do the first shift. Simply watch them as they sat in separate cells. At least Shiro had finally resigned himself to sitting, when they had refused to remove his chains. He had promised no harm, a teasing string of words, and his arm had flared like Shiro’s had done countless times before. Which Shiro? Both Shiros. Gritting his teeth, it was another time that Keith had really hoped someone would work out a way to call them something different, separate them just a little. 

Shifting his weight onto his other foot, he taps his fingers idly against his arm. Exhaustion was creeping around his eyes, and the younger soldier still hadn’t looked up, determined to keep pressing his forehead against his hands. Maybe he had fallen asleep like that. Keith couldn’t decide, and switched his weight back onto his right leg.

“Did you go to Kerberos?”

It’s a question that catches him off guard. Quickly, Keith looks around, trying to see if anyone else was being referred to. Finally pointing to himself, Keith frowns as he asks “are you talking to me?”

“No, he’s talking to the other man beside you.” Too much mirth in the answer, and Keith doesn’t hesitate to throw a glare that way.

“If you _are_ talking to me,” another glare, as there’s another bout of laughter, “then no. Shiro… _you_ go to Kerberos. Youngest pilot to get the honour.”

“‘Honour’?” When the word is repeated back, Keith can feel just how hollow it sounds. When the younger soldier looks up, there are lines on his face that weren’t there before. “So this is a different universe.”

“Huh?”

“I could’ve told you that.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

Keith looks between Shiro and Shiro, two thirds of the same man, who bicker. Despite the glass separating them, they both stand, facing each other. “If it is concerning _him_ , then you are definitely talking to me.”

“You have no right to enter any conversation, _alien_.”

“Since when did the big damn hero call the shots? As I recall, we never liked the titles that came with being in the Garrison, right? Hated all the attention.”

He should stop this. He knows he should. But he can’t help and watch, as Shiro, baring his teeth, steps closer to the glass, until his hands are splayed as far as they can with the chains still around his wrists. Shiro, still in his uniform, the one Keith remembers from the formal photo day, just before the launch, simply stares back. 

“If it were up to you, you would’ve stolen the first ship and flown out to space on your own, right? Isn’t that right, _Takashi_?”

“Enough!”

 

Keith jumps at least three feet in the air when Shiro arrives. Croaks his name out, and is sent on his way with a simple ‘yessir’. Maybe too automatic, as Shiro looks momentarily upset. They all do, three sets of eyes staring at him, watching him. Watching after him as he walks away.

 

 

He’s not allowed down in detainment after that. None of them are. Shiro has Allura try to track down the ship they found floating in space, see if they can reverse the process, and that’s the last anyone’s allowed to speak of the fact that Shiro was downstairs and upstairs at the exact same time.

 

 

“It’s been a week.”

“Leave it alone, Lance.”

“Right, like you can just leave alone the fact that below us, at this exact moment, are two other copies of Shiro.”

“They’re not copies. They are their own people.”

“Alternate universe versions of Shiro, then.”

“Can we call them something else? I’m getting a little confused.”

“What would you suggest, Pidge? You’re the one who came up with the alternate universe theory.”

Keith hangs around the corner, listening in. Distancing himself again, as Shiro spent more time downstairs than he did with them. Even trainings seemed shorter, further away. Wasn’t quite sure how to look at all of them, how to look at Keith again. Hiding something, definitely. Just had to figure out what it was.

Rubbing his temples, a headache coming on from thinking about this a little too much, Keith just manages to catch the rest of the conversation.

“Would we call the — uh — purple one _Kuro_?”

“Was that supposed to be a joke?”

“I’m serious! Like the opposite of ‘shiro’, right? Hey, shut up, I read up on some Japanese back in the Garrison, okay? In case I got the opportunity to have a conversation.”

“In Japanese.”

“Pidge, your tone wounds me.”

“So what do we call the… other one? If we’re calling that one ‘Kuro’.”

“Takashi.”

Silence crashes down, and Keith swears as he realises he spoke out loud. Sighing, he comes around the corner, displeasure turning his face sour, he knows it. All three of them looked several shades of shocked, and maybe a bit of embarrassment coloured them too, but Keith didn’t let it deter him. “The other one is Takashi.” That’s what I called him, Keith doesn’t add. Doesn’t want to think about back then.

“Right. So we have Takashi, Kuro and Shiro.”

“I still think ‘Kuro' sounds dumb.”

“You know what else is dumb? Referring to all of them as ‘Shiro’, when they’re clearly not.”

Bickering starts up again, and Keith takes that as his cue to slide out of view. At least he wasn’t alone in utter confusion, a slight tinge of fear still in his person that he saw in his fellow paladins. They could face off an entire Empire, but anything happening to their leader had them quiver, even now. Reminded Keith that they were still just a bit younger than him, younger than Shiro. Didn’t just have themselves, had homes to go back to. Keith’s home was in space, but Shiro’s was nowhere at all. Maybe seeing the one they had dubbed ‘Kuro’ had suggested that, in some way. Shiro had nowhere to end up, and that was one possibility.

Even now, after all the time together, there was still a chance that they could fall.

 

 

Shiro doesn’t join them for dinner for the third night in a row. Allura was the only one allowed downstairs, and Keith can’t help the envy every time he watches her disappear, trays of food following after her on the little robots. Just let me help! he had tried to plead, not only to her but also to Coran. Why weren’t they letting him down there? It’s not like he was going to set them free, or anything. Not like he could. Apparently the locks were configured so only Shiro or Allura could let them out — at least, that’s what Hunk had said.

Following close, Keith ducks around a corner when one of the bots looks back. Waits for the little note that says its turned back, and keeps going. Sticks close to their tail, until he’s within earshot. 

“Any progress?” he hears, and there is the sounds of doors sliding open, clink of metal upon metal. Dinnertime. 

“I’ve located the ship.”

“Oh, good. That’s…” Shiro trails off, and Keith finds it odd that the other two hadn’t taken the initiative to speak. Maybe they muted the cells. 

“I don’t understand your rush. Well, I mean I _do_. They don’t belong here. But, Shiro—”

“Keith _can’t_ know, Allura. There are some things better left unsaid.”

“It isn’t nearly as one-sided as you think.”

“Even if it isn’t… it has to stay that way.”

Cold fills him, from the tips of his fingers to his toes, as if he had been ignoring it since that first vein of rejection from a Shiro he remembered but didn’t know. There was no reason for his faith in Shiro to wane, of course. He and Shiro, they had been together for so long, Keith didn’t really remember much of a time before. Nothing normally shook him, and despite knowing this shouldn’t make him waver, the finality in Shiro’s tone hurt him, just a little, just enough. 

They’re talking again, and it’s just chatter. Shiro asking about the other paladins, how they’re taking the situation. Allura is clipped answers, trying to divert back to something else. Keith doesn’t quite catch on to the implications, hidden meanings and roundabout ways of asking. It’s a system that Allura and Shiro had, their connection there, allowing them to talk about things that the others didn’t get. Whilst they had joked once that since Allura had launched Shiro across the room, it had made it easier for them to understand each other. Keith remembered watching the camera recording of that.

“You will have to explain it to him.”

“I know. I will. Eventually.”

“If you leave it too late, you’ll end up like me.” Finally, there is chatter other than Shiro and Allura. Gravely tone, belonging to the one they had all begun to collectively call Kuro. It’s like space had tampered with just more than his body, with how his voice carried that same crackle the Galra had. Keith didn’t want to think of those implications.

“I am _nothing_ like you.”

“That’s what they all say. Remember all those books you read as a kid? The ones about time travel and facing yourself? Time to start believing.”

There’s a noise, one that Keith associates with the technology in Shiro’s arm starting up. Was he going to attack Kuro? Allura wouldn’t allow it, but she wasn’t speaking. Keith leaned that closer, despite the thrumming in his ears, the cold still coursing through his veins. He should just walk away, wait for them to return upstairs. Maybe confront Shiro then, ask him how he really felt. Too many scenarios played out in the back of Keith’s mind, damn near blinding him to the whoosh that passes by his cheek.

“Keith?!” His name comes out a little too strangled, as Shiro seemed just as surprised as Keith felt. But there wasn’t just surprise on Shiro’s face. Appalled, that’s what he would have called it. Shiro looked absolutely appalled at — himself? Keith? Now that was the decider. 

“Shiro…”

Despite how much he wants to look at Shiro’s face, to see if there was anything there that would suggest an explanation to what he had overheard, Keith can’t look away. Can’t look away from how Shiro still hadn’t disarmed, the condensed energy of the Galra technology still burning, white hot against his cheek.

Oh. He got it now.

“I’m sorry.” Keith lets out a whoosh of air, stepping back. Giving himself distance. That tender thread between them figuratively snapped. “I’ll go.”

Shiro doesn’t run after him, but it’s not like he ever had. Keith is reminded that he’s always been the one chasing that great big back, and it was so sad, turning away from it after so long.

 

That night, Keith goes back to his old room, threadbare blankets and a bunk that is never occupied. The one he had taken when they first arrived at the castle. Away from the others, isolating himself. When they had started growing closer as a team, he took the room next to Lance’s. When they had finally talked about resuming their relationship, Keith had took to spending a few nights in Shiro’s room. Looking down at his hands, all he had was a few shirts, a knife, a jacket. That’s why it had been so easy to move. He didn’t have anything. 

No, he _had_ something. But it was gone in a flash. Just like last time, when a ship had launched into space, and a year had passed. Keith didn’t want to go through that again. The knife is back under his pillow, shirts are thrown at the end of the bed, and Keith doesn’t kick his boots off as he falls back on his bed. Back to how it was supposed to be.

 

 

 

They locate the ship, that started this all. Keith doesn’t go this time. It was his fault it started, anyway. If he hadn’t been drawn to that weird alien technology, Shiro wouldn’t have pushed him out the way. It wouldn’t have reacted to his arm. They could have gone on like they always had.

 

 

 

“What do you mean it doesn’t work?”

Keith is lingering again, where he shouldn’t be. Supposed to be doing patrol, but considering the only people left on the ship were himself and Coran, he didn’t really see the point. Squinting at the grainy image, he was grateful that Coran tapped a few buttons, making it clearer. Oh, there was Shiro, and the other two. Hunk and Pidge were installing something into the console at the centre of the room.

Allura turned back towards the screen, face a little too close, arm not held out far enough. “ _It refuses to turn on again! We don’t even know what made it work the last time!_ ”

Well, he didn’t want to be the one to explain he dragged his hands over that same console. At least Kuro and Takashi remained quiet, although Shiro was pacing. Not a good sign. “Have you tried unplugging it?”

There’s a frustrated noise, and Keith can’t decide who was the larger source of it. It might’ve been Pidge, from how she was talking just loud enough for Allura’s wrist cam to catch the chatter. “ _We’ve tried everything_ ,” Allura is saying again, arm moving away from her face. The image turns on its side; Keith’s head follows. “ _We might never be able to reverse this._ ”

“ _And we can’t have three Shiros wandering around the universe_.” That’s Lance’s voice, trying to make light of the situation. But as the camera drags up, Keith can see he’s just as concerned, just as worried. Maybe even a little afraid, as he takes a step away from Kuro once more, who simply stretches his arms, binds jingling. 

“I’ll at least anchor the ship. Maybe you should return for now.”

Despite the unhappy noise, they sign off, and Keith leaves where he had been hiding. Decides to go for his rounds after all, if only to miss the docking of the lions. Miss watching them all clamber out, varying degrees of frustrated and angered, something that would only have him kick himself for not joining, not setting things right. Keith knows that it was him who started this. He should fix it. 

On the third round, they return. Shiro is leading Takashi and Kuro downstairs. Keith ducks behind another pillar. Waits.

 

 

Flips a coin he had saved from Earth. Heads, he’ll stay aboard and wait for the next attempt. Tails, he’ll rush down there himself, set things right.

 

 

Keith is watching the coin fly up, when the door to his room slides open. Damn. He’d been found by the one person he didn’t want to see.

“We need to talk.”

 

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

 

“I’m sorry for the other night.”

 

“Keith, _please_ , look at me.”

 

“Do you not want me anymore?”

“Keith—”

“I heard you. With Allura.”

Silence.

“You… you used that on me as a weapon.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I never meant for that to happen.”

“Shiro, maybe we shouldn’t—”

“Never once have I not wanted you. Seeing those… other versions of me reminded me of that.”

Now it’s Keith’s turn to fall silent. Deafening on his ears, as Shiro clenches and unclenches, his jaw, his eyes, his hands. Reaching out, pulling back. Unsure what to do. Final rejection? Keith had resigned himself long ago to be ready for this.

“If you will still have me, all I’ve ever wanted was you, Keith.” It is alway Shiro’s left arm, that rests on Keith. As if he only trusted himself with what remained human. But as the right hand rests at the junction between neck and shoulder, thumb gently rubbing the skin just there, Keith does not feel the weight or heat that he had seen directed at him the other day. No, he sees acceptance on Shiro’s face. Coupled with a searing fear, that Keith had always felt too.

Turning his head slightly, Keith moves until the metal is pressed against his cheek. “Don’t leave me again.”

“I won’t.” No promise this time, not like the Garrison. They were wiser now, hindsight telling them not to make promises they can’t keep. But Keith ignores the niggling feeling, and accepts it.

 

 

Keith had only read about makeup sex, back in the Garrison, whenever a group went out for that two day journey to the closest town. They’d pick up magazines, letters. Information, that was their intention. But they were a bunch of sixteen and seventeen year olds, crammed in a classroom, meeting each other for the first time, still had at least a good three to five years ahead of them before they were remotely qualified to take a plane through the desert. It was like they weren’t all training to go piloting fighter jets in space some days, in the classroom. 

Whilst Keith had only watched the rest of them, he had picked up the old magazines when they were finally abandoned. Idly, to understand what the hell some of the other trainees were on about.

Years on, from idle reading, he could definitely say that that moment with Shiro topped the last time they had ‘makeup sex’, after seeing each other for the first time in a year, after everything finally slowed down just enough for them to breathe. 

Smothered and loved, Keith would have said that thread hadn’t magically snapped back together. Maybe they tied a knot, recognising a problem. Making it stronger. Making them stronger.

Shiro lays beside him, chest heaving, hand over his face but smile there. Keith sits, a leg thrown over Shiro, as he’d finally managed to pull himself away. Head against the wall, too warm, too cold, just right. “Those magazines didn’t lie.”

Huffing a laugh, Shiro looks up at him finally. “I—thank you. For understanding.”

“Wish you talked to me sooner.”

“So do I,” Shiro hums out. “I know I should’ve. I just… wanted to fix it.”

“I don’t need protecting, Shiro.”

“You are the last person in the universe who needs protecting, Keith. I know that better than anyone.”

Keith can’t help the self-satisfied smile at that. “Good.”

Another chuckle, and Shiro rolls over, hand reaching for Keith’s leg. Thumbs the curve of his knee, tracing the scars along his calf. “Maybe you should talk to them, after all.”

Despite the yearning in him, to run down there now, figure it all out, Keith slides down from the wall, until he’s on his belly. Nose to nose. “Later.”

“Mmm, later.”

 

 

 

“So, are you two… talking, once again?”

Keith looks out the corner of his eye, taking in the sheer and absolute concern on Allura’s face. Shiro must’ve told her. “Yes.”

Allura studies him for a moment, before a small smile breaks out on her face, relief heavy. “I’m glad.”

“Thank you for being there for him.”

Catching Allura by surprise was something Keith was normally capable of, but there it was. “I—of course. It is my duty.”

“You’re a good friend to him, Princess. He really does treasure you.”

“… I treasure him too.”

 

 

 

A month since the arrival of Kuro and Takashi. It shouldn’t have been taking so long, even if he had finally begun to assist them on restoring the console. “Maybe they need to come to terms with something,” Pidge had suggested, with a shrug and a roll of her eyes. “Seeing Keith certainly seemed to make them react _badly_.”

He had been stared at, and Shiro had called it a day. Returning to the castle in Shiro’s lion, Keith stood across from Shiro. Both of them. Despite the names they had seemingly accepted, they were still just ‘Shiro’ in Keith’s mind. Kuro had fallen quiet since his first week of teasing chatter, no longer smiling like he knew what would happen next. But it was Takashi who still wouldn’t talk to anyone other then Shiro. Wouldn’t look at Keith at all, and barely raised his head until ordered. 

“You don’t talk to me,” Keith comments, just as they’re preparing to dock.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Why not?”

“Simply because there is nothing to be said.”

“Who are you?”

“ _Keith_.” He hears the warning in Shiro’s tone. Careful where he steps. Whilst Kuro was still bound, Takashi had yet to be cuffed in any manner. Out of the two, he was the most dangerous. 

“No one you know.”

“We went to the Garrison together.”

“No, we didn’t.”

Frowning, Keith turns, preparing the lion for re-entry into the castle. Presses a few buttons for the decontamination cycle, once Shiro enters the little area. Suddenly, Keith finds himself surrounded, head tilting just a fraction to take in the three larger bodies behind him, as the ray ran over all of them, finding any little bits of dirt to get rid of. Hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end, as they all breathe out of sync. Odd, he would have figured they _would_ have been the same. Shiro is holding him by the elbow, and he follows the lines of metal until it meets skin, eyes finally trailing up to Shiro’s own. _Oh_.

At least he hadn’t been banned from seeing them again.

Leading the way down to the lower levels of the castle, Keith waits for Shiro to open the cells. There’s no hesitation in him, not anymore. Angry again, as he pushes Kuro in a little too forcefully. Keith can’t get a read on Shiro, doesn’t understand where it’s coming from. He hadn’t thought there was a problem. Hadn’t thought he was back to closing himself off. Up and down, like one of those yo-yos Keith found in that shack one time. It was getting to be too much.

And dammit if he was going to treat Keith like some delicate princess. If anything, considering the only princess they knew had more strength in her little finger than any of them combined, it should say something. “Shiro, we need to talk.”

All three of them look at him then. Keith was done. Even if the bruising hadn’t quite yet faded on his hips, and he knew there was still a nice splattering of scratches on his shoulders, it didn’t change it. Not this time. If this is what it meant for Keith to keep being the good soldier for Shiro, he wasn’t starting to see it anymore. “Sir.” Distance.

 

Shiro waits until after dinner, when they’re piling dishes into the trays. The rest of the team made a run for it, and Keith notes how he doesn’t even know what the running joke is anymore. Hasn’t spoken to anyone in the team in so long. Too focused on figuring out how to send those people back. 

“I should talk to them.”

Shiro doesn’t even give enough pause to be polite. “No.”

“But Pidge said—”

“ _Keith_ , please… I’ll sort this out myself.”

“Pidge said they needed to resolve something. Probably.” An afterthought, as it seemed too good to be true. Keith wasn’t a man of faith, but even if Pidge had said it completely offhanded, it resonated in him. Just enough.

Yet, Shiro was unmoving. “I started this and I’ll finish it.”

Keith doesn’t mean to drop the tray. Doesn’t mean to snap. Hours before, he had planned it in his head, how to execute the perfect banter to convince Shiro. But he was angry and hurt. “No, you _saved_ me from being zapped by that ray, Shiro! This could have been my problem! Just—Stop trying to defend me all the time! I won’t break!”

“Keith…”

“You used to trust me to look after myself. What _happened_?!”

Bending, Shiro distracts himself by picking up the tray. Continues filling it with the plates they always seem to use too many of, one arm holding it up. Too distracted to try to not use it, Keith notes, with how he can almost hear the gears whirring, a whoosh of fluid. Going overtime to hold the tray up. “I didn’t mean to.”

There is no need for him to comment back. The unheard ‘but you _did_ ’ is there in the room with them, big glowing letters. Surrounding them. Shiro swallows, and turns back. “I’m sorry… I—” cutting himself off, Shiro makes a frustrated noise Keith had never heard from him before. Looking up at the ceiling once, Shiro seems to mull over it, long enough for him to not quite meet Keith’s eyes when he looks back. “Talk to them.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me just yet.” A mutter, followed by a louder: “Tomorrow. Get some rest.”

As close to a dismissal as he would ever get. Relinquishing the rag he hadn’t realised he’d been wringing in his hands the entire time, Keith began to walk out the room when he realised something. “Will you be in your room?”

“Yes.”

Good, he doesn’t say, but relief filled him.  

 

 

 

Deciding to take the lesser of two evils, Keith waits for Shiro to open the cell, albeit reluctantly. Takashi was still huddled up on the bed in the corner. At least he had been eating, Allura had commented, as she had joined them down there. Whilst Keith hadn’t wanted an audience, and made his displeasure somewhat known, if it gave Shiro some comfort, then he would deal with it.

As Keith steps into the cell, he notes how a chair had been added. Assuming it was for himself, he sits, and the cell finally closes again. Odd. He remembered sessions like this back in the Garrison. Fingers digging into his jeans, trying to make sense of it. A sigh leaves him, and he rubs his eyes. Shouldn’t be thinking about that again, he tells himself, and goes to stand.

Finally, Takashi speaks up. “I would prefer if you stayed over there.”

Keith stops, sits. Remembers talking to the counsellor at the Garrison, ripping up little bits of paper until he had made a mountain. Knocking it down again. Gone. Drawing his own knees up onto the chair, and wishing he could just run away. “You don’t know me, do you?”

Takashi looks at him, fringe a little too long. But Keith can see his eyes, so like Shiro’s own, but so different. There was nothing in them that made them look around the room, three times, just to make sure everything was secure. No weight that had them flick towards the sudden noises, before settling back, sentence uninterrupted. “No, I don’t.”

“Hmm.”

With a sigh, Takashi unfolds himself. Thinner than Shiro was, at that time, Keith was sure of it. Back in the Garrison, they used to spar frequently, at least often enough for Keith to remember every one of Shiro’s blindspots, and how his body hummed with life underneath Keith’s hands. “You die. In my life, you died before I hardly got to know you.”

Maybe it’s the lack of surprise on Keith’s face that irritates him. “You aren’t concerned about that.”

“Not really,” Keith answers. “I didn’t do anything to be remembered for, anyway. Back then.”

“Top of the class, a decorated pilot long before you were sent into space. A freak accident, they said. Pilot error.”

Same as Shiro, yet Keith can’t form those words. But he mouths a “I was older than Shiro,” and turns in his chair, to stare behind him. Shiro is frowning, watching, waiting. Keith can’t work out what he’s thinking, and slides his eyes across. “Why did they send me and not you?”

“Why would they send me?” Takashi isn’t looking at him again, focused on the floor. 

“You’re the best pilot there is, Takashi. Best instructor, too. And, even if I,” pause, swallow, breathe “ _hated_ that you left for… Kerberos, it should have been you.”

Takashi looks at him, with something that Keith had never seen before. Not ever on Shiro’s face, and Keith can’t decide how he feels. “Maybe I finally broke down. We held a funeral for you, yesterday.” 

“We held a funeral for you too. I wasn’t allowed to be present.”

Shiro didn’t know this. Keith can almost _feel_ him drawing towards the cell, ready to end this. “I was ‘acting out’, and they swept everything under as _pilot error_. I was booted out of the Garrison.”

“What happened next?”

“Stole a motorbike and just drove for hours. I don’t have a family to go home to.” Something he had never spoken to Shiro about. Whilst he had always adamantly said that he would rather forget about that year, with Takashi before him, looking exactly how he had, it was easier. A little odd, as Shiro had returned in his life, and he couldn’t say he ever would in Takashi’s. Maybe this was a dream after all, letting Keith face some of his own problems.

Whatever it was, Takashi let out a sigh, dragging a hand over his face. Resignation. Maybe the smallest amount of acceptance there, too, but it was hard to tell with hair too long, in his face. Shiro would’ve snipped it off with the closest sharp object, had it been him. Keith smiles at that, a little fondly, and doesn’t notice he’d touched his own hair. 

“Should I leave?”

Takashi hums, head rolling back and forth before he looks up. His eyes are shiny, the way Shiro’s goes sometimes when he’s staring out at space a little too long. Remembering things he doesn’t want to remember. But he never cries, never had, even after everything. Even though Takashi rubs at his eyes a bit, Keith knows that he wouldn’t have shed a tear. “I, uh, yeah. Sorry.”

With a nod, Keith stands. Moves the chair slightly closer to the bed, before he turns to leave. Maybe that was a smile on Takashi’s face, but Keith wouldn’t know for sure. “You need a haircut,” he says, just as the door slides open. 

 

 

“My turn, is it? Take a seat. I’d pull it out for you, but I’m still…” Kuro raises his arms, showing off his bindings. Still glowing red, locked. Shiro let out a huff, and crossed his arms, sticking to the corner of the room.

Keith sits, regardless, back straight. It was so odd to believe that Shiro had handed himself over to the Galra so easily, after all they had done. But here was proof, that not even Shiro was strong enough. A haunting thought, that has his eyes dart to the corner of the room. Shiro didn’t trust him alone with Kuro, which hurt just as much as the seeing the person before him, warped.

“Did I die on you too?”

A hollow laugh, and the smile doesn’t disappear even if the echoing does. “You do. Is that a problem?”

“No.” Keith doesn’t even pause to blink as he responds, response so automatic, but he means it, entirely.

Kuro seems somewhat surprised, but he also doesn’t. Not that Keith could even manage to read him, not with how those eyes didn’t focus, how the smile doesn’t fade. Too comical, like a real villain in a comic book. Not like their lives hadn’t been like one big comic up until that point. “Most people would be concerned with how they died.”

“I won’t die here. What happens in your lives doesn’t affect me.” And that was the truth. His so called death in Takashi’s time had already passed (and it wasn’t even _his_ to begin with). There was no way it could happen now, to lead to the future before him. Kuro’s existence was from somewhere else, torn from his own universe. A horrible one, but one nonetheless.

“That’s cute. That could almost pass for confidence.”

“No… it’s faith.”

“I’ve never been a man of faith. _He_ can attest to that as well.”

“I would rather you didn’t address me.”

“Of course, _sir_.” 

“Shiro, maybe you should leave…?” Rise in tone was put in at the last minute, to make it seem not like an outright suggestion. Still unsure where he stood. Still a little hurt, and wondering if magazines years old left out the parts that makeup sex didn’t make everything up. Disappointing. Head hurting. Keith couldn’t stop staring into those big yellow eyes.

“No.”

Okay. He wants to say it, but his throat constricts. Okay, he’s okay. Kuro tilts his head, the low lighting catching the sheen of his skin, not unlike that time Keith had been subjected to quintessence. Made him rub his left hand subconsciously. Look away, he tells himself. Can’t.

“Are you dying?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Kuro raises his right arm. There’s the answer. Shiro shouldn’t be here to hear this. Look at him, Keith thinks, make sure he’s okay. 

“They filled it with something, just in case everything went wrong. That, and using quintessence too often.”

“But quintessence… heals people.” Keith can hear the question: ‘how do you know that?’ Can feel Shiro staring at him just as hard as Kuro does. 

“It’s like medicine — too much, and it can do just as much bad as good.”

“That was almost deep.” Speaking up again, Shiro unfolds himself, before crossing arms and legs again. Balancing against that corner, next to the panel to open the door. Cautious.

“We try.”

“Why are you here?”

Kuro shrugs. “Either this is one helluva nightmare, or Zarkon decided to change the simulator on me. I’m not all that bothered.”

“I— _what_?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

If Keith were being honest, that sort of answer threw him off, just a fraction. Just enough to have him fully turn to look at Shiro, who met his eye with that emotion Keith had never been able to name. To place. Keith knew that Shiro had nightmares, especially ones from his captivity. Had woken up more than once, beside Shiro, facing his own knife. Sometimes found Shiro, on a higher floor of the castle, trying to get out. But they were in space, away from any sort of help, and he didn’t want anyone else to know — wanted to continue to appear unshakeable. 

He should have tried harder to keep Shiro out of this one, to not face a Galra soldier, even if it was himself from another time, another place. A muscle was twitching in Shiro’s cheek, one Keith recognised. They were stepping too close. This could blow up too fast for Keith to even catch it in time, and if he were being honest, he wasn’t the best sort of person to deal with this situation at all.

“N-never mind. Um, what happened to me?” Pull him away from reminiscing about himself. Had to pat himself on the back for that quick thought. Wished Allura was here, or even Pidge, they’d be able to tell when Shiro was getting too close to breaking, though. Toeing a thin line. He wasn’t meant to be this kind of person.

“You died. Painlessly. But… I… held you in my arms as you passed, Keith. I would give nothing more than to hold you again.”

“No, thank you.”

On Kuro’s face, the slightest smile appears. Unlike his other ones. “I know you died,” he speaks, pausing only to flex the fingers of his right hand. Keith can hear the fluid pumping through, louder than it should be. “But seeing you like this — seeing all of them — makes me almost believe this is real.”

“Why can’t it be real?” Keith asks, knowing it was very real for him. Or he’d managed to hit his head in that last skirmish with Lance, just before they landed on the ship with Shiro. He _had_ gone a little too hard into the meteorite field. 

“The Galra have a way of getting into your head. And Zarkon has had thousands of years to perfect torture.”

Mouth forming a small ‘o’, Keith goes to ask one more question. Something else, not just about his death, but his life. The paladins. Where did they die? He needed to know to avoid it ever happening. So that Lance, Hunk and Pidge are safe and sound, and Allura still has her castle and Coran is still there, for that emotional support Keith needs. 

“That’s enough.”

“Wait—” Keith tries to fight the grip on his arm, reaching out for Kuro. Answers, that’s all he wanted. To not let this happen, not again. Not ever. How did he die? Why hadn’t he been there for Shiro? Did Lance die first? Please tell him, no. Not that he wanted to choose who would go first. “Wait, Shiro!”

“You need a haircut,” Kuro says, softly, just as the door slides shut.

 

 

Shiro’s hands drag through his hair, when they are halfway up the stairs, alone. Too alone with their thoughts, worries, lack of words. “You _do_ need a haircut,” he muses, fingers catching the ends and tugging them just enough to make a point. Keith hums out a noise, unable to stop himself from leaning into the touch. Can’t quite find the words on the tip of his tongue, to say what he really wants to say. Just digs his nails lightly into the cotton of Shiro’s shirt, and sighs.

“You need to talk to me more.”

“I know.”

“You need to trust me more.”

“I know.”

“Shiro… I’m not sorry.” _I am. I'm so sorry._

“ _I am_. Enough for the both of us.”

 

 

 

Keith stopped counting the days that Takashi and Kuro had been aboard. Even as he stood before the console again, waving his hand over the buttons as he had however long ago, he wondered if that would affect it. Was it bad that he forgot? Having gotten so used to spending time down in the lower levels of the castle, _talking,_ reliving moments with Takashi, receiving small warnings from Kuro, Keith wasn’t sure if he was ready to let them go.

A hand lands on his shoulder, arm heavy against the back of his neck. Turning to look up at Shiro, who looked lighter, like maybe this was some kind of therapy for him too, Keith knew it was right. They didn’t belong here. Maybe in Takashi’s life, they would finally meet again, and it wouldn’t be as doomed as he believed it would be. Kuro was another matter altogether, as he was part of the Galra, a broken man. A sneer still on his face, words still echoing the belief this was all just a nightmare, a simulation. Trying to break him again.

Slowly, a hum builds in the ship. Lights flicker on, floor lights leading towards that beam that had attracted Keith so long ago. Go through the motions, he tells himself, as he reaches out towards it. If he had touched it, what would have happened? he still wonders. So close. 

Keith blinks, thrown back, and when he opens his eyes once more, the lights are gone. Just him and Shiro, alone on the ship. Tightens his fingers around Shiro’s own, and he receives a squeeze back.

 

 

 

**ENDNOTE:**

Takashi never went to Kerberos. Keith was a few years ahead, and was abducted on Pluto, alongside Katie Holt. They never recovered the vessel, and its been a few years. Kuro lost Keith in the midst of battle, after losing everyone else. The loss shattered his mind, which Galra influenced with the technology already imbedded in him. He’s the one whose most convinced this is just a recurring nightmare, while Takashi is days away from expulsion from the Garrison for a lack of conduct, for health reasons they slapped on his file. Completely sure this is him on the edge of a breakdown. No matter which life he lives, Shiro does not get the ultimate happy end, and Keith is what’s keeping him toeing the line. That slightest bit of faith doesn’t make him fall.

**Author's Note:**

> [bgm: lana del ray's "once upon a dream"]
> 
> i honestly had full intentions to just make this pwp which you can totally see from the beginning and in a few places lol i decided not to change them though after all. but then i started writing and gave myself a weird plot. like super weird. and a few feelings, and made myself a bit sad. so the pwp has been scrapped until further notice, because pwp w the foursome was inevitable until feelings and dialogue got involved. the worst.
> 
> also, idk, w this, it was constantly toeing the line between making them too dependent on each other, not enough, shiro getting weirdly overprotective, coming to terms w his feelings, having keith make a stand that he's not a damsel in distress that i see really often (if anything, he's the one who survived in a desert alone with only a knife and rescued shiro, sooo)... and their relationship. as a whole. what i think of their relationship too. messy. 
> 
> one more thing before i forget: i got an ask on tumblr about fic requests (after i posted my last pwp i think lol) and yes forreal go ahead and hmu on tumblr (@[hotlineaisui](www.hotlineaisui.tumblr.com)) i would love some casual prompts (esp for sheith)


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